


Jack's Vigil

by LadyKnight33



Series: The Nightmare Before [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dracula Reaper, Halloween, Junkenstein's Revenge, M/M, Slasher Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, undead jesse mccree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-20 15:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21059306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKnight33/pseuds/LadyKnight33
Summary: Jack waits impatiently for the Reaper to emerge from a forced slumber.





	Jack's Vigil

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you TOYDREAMER @toydreamings (twitter) for the plot bunny.

**Jack’s Vigil**

Sheets of rain battered the old castle walls. Flashes of lightning illuminated the elegant towers once belonging to a Countess. She went by a new title now. A Huntress without peer and an unquenchable thirst for blood. By her blessing Jack stored his precious heart deep within the bowels of the dungeons. There weather seldom interrupted the silence. 

The deep red coffin held a creature with a complicated history. The Reaper had been so many things to Jack. A friend. A foe. A partner. An extension of himself. Within Jack’s chest rested a heart of gold, belonging to a man once known as Gabriel. Without that heart, Jack would be a pile of bones rotting away somewhere in the Wild Woods. Yet with that heart, Gabriel could have been the most powerful entity the Netherworld had ever seen. Instead Gabriel was confined to this carefully constructed coffin and Jack unable to leave him.

Gently glowing candles surrounded the casket. Jack added two for every one almost burnt out. This one corner of the cool damp dungeon radiated warmth. He was drawn to it. Being dead, being immortal, meant loosing the natural body heat of the living. Not knowing he missed the warmth until he was drenched in the blood of the living. Now he sought it out.

The Reaper still needed souls. Even locked away. Jack had no use for them. He was after the excitement of the kill. The rush taking another’s life brought. It hadn’t aways been this way. Before becoming this zombie creation, Jack remembered using his training to hunt the monsters killing humans. Even after gaining the Reaper as his companion, Jack had stuck to killing monsters. But now, after so long, the immortal soul twisted. Human souls were not meant to live this long. He was now more monster than human.

Souls of humans and monsters alike fed the dormant Reaper. Jack couldn’t resurrect him. The battle had taken so much from both of them. Jack could only offer these souls in hopes his partner would one day have the strength to join him. His red jacket waited patiently until then.

“Still here?” The deep drawl of an undead thing broke his vigil. “Not going to wake him any faster.” The skull kerchief hiding the zombie’s lower half of the face annoyed Jack. Not that McCree held back any of his expressions around the glowing green eyes. Another hunter turned monster. Jack didn’t know the story, didn’t need to know. Just the fate of hunters who live long enough to gain powerful enemies. The Banshee and the Witch to name the two who despised Jack the most.

“Putting him in there hasn’t helped.”

“You got a better way to contain his errant smoke?”

The low growl from the back of Jack’s throat encouraged the undead gunslinger to step back. The fractured hockey mask hid his scowl. So he really had no reason to complain about the skull kerchief. “At least without it, I could see if we were getting anywhere. And he’s not going to thank you for it.”

“Details.” McCree dismissed Jack’s concerns. “I did what I had to do. Kept him together so we could finish the fight. Must say, he made it his own.”

The gunslinger was right. The red coffin had been plain. Yet like everything the Reaper touched, once he ceased thinking of himself as a bound soul, it gained his mark. The skull and dagger motif. Even Jack’s red jacket gained an early version of a skull motif. The same that formed on Reaper’s enchanted shotguns. This skull and dagger became embellished the longer Reaper remained contained within the wooden box lined with satin.

“I don’t see you trying to get him out sooner.”

“Not my problem.” The cowboy zombie waved as he turned away from the dungeon cell containing the coffin. “He’s immortal. He’ll get out when he’s ready. Probably just reforming that ghost of his.” Finally silence returned to the damp corridors.

Jack remained at the bars. His hunts for souls were kept as brief as possible so he could spend most of his eternity here. Company for the Reaper. Protector while the ghost couldn’t defend himself. Without a doubt Gabriel knew what transpired outside that box. The orange glow churning out from Jack’s mouth and eyes a testament to the struggle of the golden heart to reach its true home. Jack’s body trapped it. Without Gabriel to will it away, it burned to find its rightful owner. It was how Jack knew Gabriel was still fighting for survival. 

Time wore on.

Only the melting candles marking the hours.

Ventures into the moonless nights to gather souls counted the years. 

A snail created eternity. Endless. Sluggish. The self assigned mission and a coffin for companionship.

When a wooden rattle startled the silence, Jack stepped closer to the bars. The moment long in coming was finally here.

The golden heart beat once again within his chest. Pounding against his ribcage. Sweet agony announcing the return of its rightful owner.

Persistent thuds against the coffin lid knocked over the towers of candles. The abuse continued. The lid held fast. Jack wanted nothing more than to step inside and rip open the casket. He had tried early in Reaper’s containment. His hands burned from the magic sealing the thing shut. The only way Reaper would escape was when he was more powerful than the enchantments upon the wood. Hope for tonight to be that moment surged into the hammering beat of the immortal’s heart. 

The two sources of percussion warred with each other. Out of sync and cacophonous. 

Abruptly the lid slammed open. A dangerous entity emerged, twin shotguns leading the way. The white mask found to hide the ghostly face over the skull had reformed around the cranium. Sleeker in design. Appropriate for the finely tailored coat and silk shirt Gabriel had chosen. Reaper was ready to continue the battle long since won. Finding the cell filled with melted wax and bars between him and freedom, Reaper dismissed the shotguns.

“Jack…” A grating sigh. Harsh from disuse. The immortal zombie held still. A fingers breadth from the bars. Black smoke undulated from Gabriel’s newly reformed body until he too stood close enough to the iron bars that the orange breath drifting away from Jack’s mask mingled with the ghost.

“Took you long enough.” Emotionless words. What use did monsters like them have for feelings.

“Yet you waited.” A clawed hand reached through the bars and scrapped along the hockey mask. “This is new. Don’t think I like it.”

Jack huffed, a cloud of orange mist rising between them. “You don’t get a say.” His mind drifted to the red jacket marked with the Reaper’s insignia. And how much he wanted to wear it again.

“Not going to let me out?” The question teased around the fact that as a ghost Gabriel had no trouble winding through such meager barriers. Jack stepped back, granting enough space between him and the bars for the Reaper to step through. “Considerate.” Magical warding crackled as black smoke billowed through the bars. Jack thought he heard a hiss of pain emerge from under the white skull like mask. For a moment Jack thought Gabriel would withdraw. But Jack had not placed these wards. He did not possess talent with magic. He was just a free spirit with the heart of one of the most powerful creatures to haunt the Netherworld within his chest. Reaper pushed forward. Dissolving completely. When he reformed only a faint falter in his step betrayed the strain it took to break the demon’s wards. 

“New look.” Jack addressed the change in the mask rather than the perceived weakness. 

“Not a choice.” Reaper’s voice remained hoarse and gravely. It suited the ghost. “Waiting for a medal?” When Jack didn’t budge, relishing the closeness.

“Wouldn’t hurt.” He was glad to have the mask conceal the half smile fluttering into place. “Though you might be more interested in revenge.”

“Now you’re talking.” Reaper had to be grinning behind that mask. Together the two of them were unstoppable.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at slytherinladyknight  
https://slytherinladyknight.tumblr.com


End file.
